


Troubled Waters

by GreatGawain



Series: The Adventures of Pink Floyd [10]
Category: Pink Floyd
Genre: Gen, Not Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:14:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25813381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreatGawain/pseuds/GreatGawain
Summary: Roger gets sick. This, of course, becomes everybody else's problem too
Series: The Adventures of Pink Floyd [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772323
Kudos: 14





	Troubled Waters

It started with a sore throat. Then a cough. Then a runny nose. By the time it had developed into a full-on ordeal, Roger had become one of, if not _the_ most hated men on the planet. Because Roger Waters did not simply “get sick”; no, when Roger Waters was ill, it became everybody else’s problem, too.

~~~

“Christ, Rog, you look-”  
“Absolutely fucking _terrible?_ Because that’s sure as shit how I feel, thanks for reminding me!” Nick’s observation was completed for him and he sighed at his friend. The studio had been relatively quiet that morning – until Roger arrived. They braced themselves for a full day of listening to him expel his infected mucus from his chest in a manner that was, most likely, far more dramatic than it needed to be.  
“Alright, we need to work on backing vocals.” David blinked, then turned to face their bassist. “Do you… think you’re up to that today?”  
Roger responded with a sickening, wet-sounding cough. “I think I’ll take a rain check on that. Do it next week.” He held up a hand before whirling around to face away from them and let out a hefty sneeze (which was so startlingly loud Nick visibly winced), then cleared his throat. “I’m gonna put down some of the guitar parts for Grantchester Meadows before I blow my _fucking_ lungs out.”  
“Fine by me…” David muttered. “Are you sure that’s not contagious?”  
Roger didn’t even turn around as he answered with an obscene gesture. Nick scoffed. “Don’t tell him, but I’m going to make him his _own_ pot of tea for the day. No cooties for me, thank you.”

~~~

“Can I help you?!” Richard exclaimed, fingers mid-chord as the ailing man burst into the room, throwing the door straight into the wall behind it. From behind the safety of his piano he was met with reddened eyes and a runny nose of equal coloring.  
“Sod off, I need more tissues!” Roger growled nasally. He wrapped his wool coat tighter around his body as he scoured the room for said items. The keyboardist bowed away as another fit of coughing erupted into the air. This sort of scenario had been going on for a full week now. He sighed as he turned back to face his bandmate, eager to rid the room of contamination as soon as possible. “Check the closet next door, there should be more boxes in there. You know, you can at _least_ have the decency to cover your damn mouth when you do that. Would you consider wearing a mask if you’re going to keep coming in to work like this?”  
Roger backpedaled his exit to confront him. “Listen here, I don’t need you to tell me what’s-” his retort was cut off by his heaving chest sending out a particularly nasty seal cough into his elbow. Richard furrowed his brows in disgust.  
“GET OUT!” he commanded, one hand pointing towards the door, the other shielding his nose and mouth. With an indignant sniffle he finally left the room without another word, leaving a trail of short sneezes behind him.

~~~

David took one look at his bandmate as he entered the room and groaned, but sat up with curiosity when he noticed the black handkerchief tied around the lower half of his face. He nudged Richard’s arm and wordlessly pointed at their bassist.  
“Well well, Rog, I see you’ve made a career change since we last saw you three days ago. Off to rob some banks for the afternoon?”  
“I thought you weren’t coming in today. Are you still sick?” Nick asked, surprised to see his friend standing in the doorway. Just when he thought they were all safe…

Roger eased his sore muscles into a chair, then cleared his throat. The voice that permeated the makeshift mask on his face sounded hoarse and weakened. “I went to the doctor after I left here on Thursday. I’m getting better, slowly. I only came in to fetch the music I was working on and to tell you the official diagnosis, if you’re interested.”  
David slid him a cup of tea, careful not to make physical contact with him. “’Course we are, we’d very much like to know whether or not we should torch the whole building. Well, what’s the verdict?” He shied away to the far edge of his seat when Roger let out a feeble cough.

“…I had a very mild case of pertussis.”  
“ _Whooping cough?!_ Disgusting! Why the hell didn’t you get vaccinated for that?!” Nick made a big show of marching straight to the sink, where he vigorously started to wash his hands all the way up to his elbows. Roger rolled his eyes.  
“I _did,_ when I was a child, but apparently it can wear off over time or something, I don’t know. Anyway, they said I should be much improved by the end of the week. I’m on antibiotics now.”  
“Do _we_ need to be on antibiotics, too?” Richard questioned cautiously. “I have young children at home, you know.” The look of concern on his face had only grown since Roger had started talking.  
“No. Assuming everyone else is up to date, there shouldn’t be any worry.” Richard sighed and sank into a chair, relieved.

“Well, thank Christ for that, I don’t know how much more of Rog’s complaining I could have taken. Glad you’re on the mend,” Nick declared. He patted the mentioned one’s shoulder, then froze and looked down at his hand before rushing back over to the sink for a second wash. Roger tiredly rubbed his eyes and drained the teacup of its contents, then replaced his mask and stood up to collect his things.  
“I’ll be back a week from today,” he rasped. His eyes shot a look at David. “And don’t you even _think_ about ringing me again to ask if I’ll write you lyrics, because the answer is perpetually _no._ ”  
“Right,” the guitarist grinned sheepishly. “See you next Monday.”

**Author's Note:**

> As requested from the winner of a challenge, the reward for which was a 1,000 word story of any topic or theme, "would it be out of the question to ask u to write roger getting sick and making that everyone elses problem cause he never stops complaining"  
> Ended up being pretty topical huh lmao
> 
> WEAR YOUR MASK AND WASH YOUR HANDS, KIDS


End file.
